It’s summer, so you must be getting thirsty quite often. I’m here to hydrate you and have a little tête-à-tête with you. I’m water. I have existed for a very long time and have no beginning. I’m not sure about my end, either. I’m the silvery odourless liquid that flows through your taps and with which you cannot do without. You require me to cook, wash, clean, bathe, and quench your thirst. I’m food for your plants and crops. I’m also your tears and sweat.   I have no shape and carry the shape of whatever holds me—the clouds, lakes, rivers, pots, and pans. As for sounds, I burble as a stream. You can hear me trickle from a tap, babble in a brook, bubble in a pot, roar as the ocean, and rumble as a waterfall. I can be gentle and calming or angry and destructive. I’m a giver and taker, creator and destroyer. I change from liquid to vapour to ice, a cycle that connects the sky, earth, and sea. You panic when you don’t see me flow from your taps; ...